The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  He was lost in a haze, staring at the van’s floor, when someone new sat beside him. All Jamie saw were a woman’s feet, covered with low black shoes and hose. She spoke in hushed tones.

  “Here’s where we stand, young man,” she said. “Many people have died this morning for no apparent reason. So far, all those who might know anything have been shot to death or blown to pieces. Now along you come, running through the woods, playing cowboys-and-Indians. Only problem is, the other guy has an M16 and you’re packing a .45. Tough odds, huh?”

  The woman grabbed him by the chin and turned Jamie until they made eye contact. Her dark, searching eyes pierced Jamie, so he looked away.

  “You are either a victim, or you are involved in this madness. But you’re alive, and that makes you valuable. I am Special Agent Janice Bronson, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Birmingham. I don’t trust teens and I have no patience for the silent treatment. I’m no shrink, and I will not mother you because you’re a minor. Nor am I currently considering your constitutional rights. My thoughts are for the people whose families are grieving today.”

  She let go of his chin. Jamie stared at the floor. Her heard the same cold, wicked arrogance in her as he did in Agatha Bidwell.

  “If you are a victim, I’ll apologize. If you are connected, don’t seek mercy. I’m sold out.”

  She stood in the open doorway. From the corner of his eye, Jamie saw her waving for someone else. Then she faced Jamie.

  “Innocent men rarely help their case by keeping quiet. You’re thirsty. Drink the water the next time it’s offered. Then answer our questions. If you think you’re in a bad place now …”

  Jamie shifted his hands inside the cuffs behind his back and blew hair from the corner of his mouth. He looked her in the eyes.

  “You won’t believe me,” he said.

  “Ah. The ability to communicate. Young man, you might be amazed by what I’ll believe. But everything starts with a name. I don’t have yours.”

  Jamie shriveled inside. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “You’re somebody’s kid. They’ll be glad to know you’re OK.”

  “There’s nobody left.”

  She grabbed his chin again and lifted until their eyes met.

  “Suspects usually say those words right before they tell us where the bodies are buried. Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”

  He jerked away and stared at the floor.

  “Hmm,” she mumbled. “Truth is your only option. We’ll scour those woods and piece together every footstep that’s taken place this morning. If you’re guilty, there’s no escape. But if you’re innocent, we can help. What you need to do is come clean.” Her cell phone rang. She studied the screen and sighed. “I’m going to send Agent Hedgecock back in. I expect you to answer each of his questions fully.”

  She jumped from the van and placed the phone to her ear. Before she walked out of range, Jamie heard her say, “Yes, sir. We’re making a full threat assessment. We haven’t …”

  Quickly, the agent’s voice drowned among the organized chaos on Highway 39. Jamie couldn’t make sense of what he saw: the police officers with rifles heading into and out of the woods, others speaking into radios attached to their shoulders, and patrol cars joining the fray, turning the road into a parking lot. The county police helicopter that never seemed to be far away – passing them on Lake Vernon at dawn and later surveying the forest above them – swooped overhead, muting everything in its roar.

  Jamie couldn’t grasp the idea that so many people were involved, focused on a trail of blood and death for which he was responsible. The people he’d known forever – his classmates, track teammates, even those who shared his sorry excuse of an apartment building – faded into a mist, as if the ghosts of a phony, distant reality.

  “You mustn’t be discouraged.” A motherly voice whispered. “The program is pushing aside all the old distractions that no longer matter. My dear sweet boy, it is preparing you for the end.”

  Jamie focused on the here-and-now; Lydia the Mentor sat on the bench beside him. She crossed her legs and dropped her tiny hands into her lap as she offered Jamie the same piteous smile he first saw in the woods next to the Alamander River. Jamie wanted to lash out, but he knew better.

  “Why?”

  Lydia rolled her eyes, as if playing games with a small child.

  “We have been through all that. I told you I’d return, but I did not anticipate speaking to you this soon.” Her smile disappeared. “You are in an untenable position, I’m afraid.”

  “A what?”

  “You cannot remain in this condition,” she said, pointing to the handcuffs. “You must and will escape. When help arrives – and it will – you must not allow anyone between you and those who would watch over you until the end. The results would be catastrophic.”

  “Why?”

  Lydia vanished, leaving Jamie cold. Other voices closed in, their words clearer now that the helicopter was nowhere near. He recognized Agent Hedgecock, who got nowhere earlier when the agent took the caring, big-brother approach during his first set of questions. He heard other voices, at first from officers. Then others, much younger and speaking in desperate tones, followed alongside. Only when he heard a familiar voice say, “Dude,” did Jamie’s heart return from a cold, empty place.

  Michael and Sammie stood at the rear of the van with Hedgecock and two patrolmen. Their jaws hung as low as his own.

  “Oh my God,” Sammie said through tears. “You’re really alive.”

  Michael shook his head amazed. Sammie asked Hedgecock for permission to climb in, but Michael didn’t wait to jump up. Jamie leaped from the bench and found himself in a bear hug.

  “J,” Michael said, shouting. “We figured you were a goner.” Then he whispered. “Play along. Play along. Sammie’s got a plan.”

  Jamie didn’t have a chance to wrap himself around Michael’s cockeyed instructions, especially when Sammie joined the reunion.

  “I don’t get it,” he said. “I heard the guns and I thought …”

  Sammie pushed Michael aside to embrace Jamie. Her hug included a giant kiss on his left cheek, above where a bullet grazed him earlier but no sign of injury remained. He stared into her bold, gleaming eyes and drew warmth from a pearlescent smile that would’ve lit up any room. He also couldn’t get in a word edgewise.

  “We’re OK, John. We’re all OK now. I’m sorry we got separated back there. We tried to keep up, but you were running so fast, and those men were shooting at us.”

  Sammie nodded as she spoke. Jamie saw something new in her eyes, a deception he needed to accept. She winked then turned to the officers.

  “My cousin’s a good runner. Too good. Isn’t that right, John?”

  Jamie nodded, swinging his disbelieving eyes between his closest friends. His ecstasy was not so overwhelming that he didn’t understand they were playing this game for a reason. For now, he didn’t care. They were alive. There was still somebody left.

  49

  A GENT HEDGECOCK CLIMBED aboard and came between the reunited.

  “Your name is John Huggins?” The agent asked. Jamie nodded. “You could’ve made this easier if you’d told us sooner. Your cousin and friend have given us quite a story. We’re going to need to confirm some …”

  Sammie jumped in. “We told them everything, John. They know what happened. Those men who killed Daddy and tried to kill us.”

  “Miss Huggins, if you’d please, I need to …”

  Sammie wouldn’t stop, nor would she let go of Jamie.

  “You don’t understand. John needs me to be here. He’s very fragile, like I told you. He won’t say much unless I’m here. He’s always been like that. Isn’t that right, John? I help you when it’s hard to figure things out.”

  Jamie recognized the pity in her eyes. He’d seen it around Albion, the way people half-stared at a man with the intelligence of a child. Sammie wanted him to pretend he was slow. />
  “I guess so,” he told her before glancing at Michael, who wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

  “John’s a really good athlete,” she told the officers, “but he’s always had other problems. The whole reason we were out camping was because John likes it so much. Daddy thought it would be good for him.” Her softness turned to snippiness. “Why is he in handcuffs? John didn’t do anything wrong. He was just scared.”

  Jamie felt as if he was 7 years old, and Sammie was his mother.

  “Your cousin was armed when we found him and initially resisted our demand to lower his weapon. He’s in custody until …”

  “Oh, my God,” she said as if exasperated. “The gun? I can explain that. When we were attacked, a man shot Daddy, but my Daddy had a rifle and fired back and killed the man. I don’t even know what that person wanted or why.” She choked up, her eyes watering. “Daddy was still alive, and we went to him. I was going to call for help, but John grabbed the other man’s gun and ran off. That’s when we chased after him, like I told you before, and lost him in the woods. Next thing we knew, these other men with machine guns …”

  Agent Hedgecock raised both hands. “Timeout. Look, all three of you are in shock, you’re probably hungry, and we need to contact your relatives.” Hedgecock paused. “You boys could use shirts, and we have questions that need answering. There’s much more going on here than probably any of you realize.”

  “OK, I understand,” Sammie said. “I’m sure John can answer all your questions, but could you please give us, like, two minutes alone? He’ll help you better if I talk to him first.”

  Hedgecock sighed but nodded the other officers out of the van.

  “Two minutes. No more. Oh, and Miss Huggins … Samantha … we need you or Mr. Cooper to provide directions to your campsite.”

  Michael snapped back. “I was just along for the ride. I got no sense of direction. Runs in the family, if you get my speed.”

  Sammie nodded. “As soon as we’re done, I promise.”

  When the van cleared of everyone but his last two friends, Jamie didn’t know where to begin. Instead, Michael did the heavy lifting.

  “Dude. You’re my hero. What you did in the woods … beyond unreal.” He offered Jamie another, briefer hug and darted his eyes between Jamie and Sammie. “I used to figure I was the stud in this outfit, but you two are the bomb. Got more guts and brains than me.” Michael paused. “Here’s the score, dude. When we saw you being hauled in by the cops, Sammie came up with a plan. Pretty sweet if we can pull it off.”

  Michael turned over the rest of the story to Sammie. She described hiding their rifles in the brush and racing from the woods, asking whether anyone had seen her tall, blond cousin. She told Jamie why they needed to act as harmless and emotionally distraught as possible to avoid suspicion flying their way. She apologized for giving Jamie a new name and creating a story in which Ben became the attacker who killed her father.

  “It was the only strategy that seemed to fit,” she whispered. “Our parents created your second identity in case of emergency. Jamie, they can’t be told who you really are. They have to believe we were caught in the middle. Just three kids. They won’t think we’ve been running around the woods with machine guns killing people.”

  “Maybe not you,” Michael smirked as he pointed to his skin.

  “This is the FBI,” Jamie said, remembering Agent Bronson’s words of warning. “They’ll figure out something isn’t right.”

  “I’m trying to buy us some time,” Sammie said. “They’re taking us to Austin Springs. We need to get you out of handcuffs ASAP.”

  Sammie hugged him again, and Michael added a simple, “Amen.” Yet Jamie wasn’t so sure Sammie’s plan was going to work, especially when he felt a familiar, foreboding presence. Jamie looked over Sammie’s shoulder to the bench where he was sitting.

  Lydia the Mentor didn’t volunteer a word through her frown.

  50

  8:40 a.m.

  E UPHORIA FILLED THE red Camaro less than ten minutes after Arthur Tynes reversed course and drove the Chancellors toward Austin Springs. The news came faster than they predicted: Jennifer Bowman, who was trolling through town since shortly after 7 a.m., saw the Jewel arrive in a van at the tiny police department.

  That their target would be trapped inside a small, fixed location seemed too good to be true, as if the universe were dangling a new temptation in front of them.

  Agatha smiled along with Christian and Arthur. She wanted to give them hope, even though her sense of being overwhelmed by the sheer force of history was growing. She needed this singular victory; she earned it through fifteen years of sacrifice away from the prestige she once knew among the Chancellory. Yet she could not escape a feeling of doom.

  The sensation grew to a palpable level when, not five minutes after the news about the Jewel, did Walter’s threat come to life. Agatha kept the live feed from the interdimensional fold on her phone. She was discussing a strategy for the attack when she noticed movement at the fold.

  Invisible space shifted, a crack opening in an otherwise obscure location in the deep forest more than a mile from the nearest living soul. Two dark, mechanical shapes shifted into life for just an instant, and the feed dissolved into static. Seconds later, the feed cleared, and the mechanical shapes vanished.

  Agatha closed her phone. She knew what was coming.

  The Shock Units long produced unimaginable fear in any man unlucky enough to face the Guard’s most terrifying combat machine. The machines were known to be invisible until the instant before powering their weapons. And then, so the stories went, they made themselves visible as they discharged their weapon. Each machine was powered by a human operating as the CPU, but these were specially-bred humans whose purpose rarely extended beyond blind obedience to orders and a desire to destroy all targets with impunity.

  She knew the Shock Units would hone in on the Jewel’s unique signature and plot the most efficient course to their destination. They would stampede across the land – invisible, relentless, merciless. Assuming the reports were true about their ground speed, Agatha decided she had no more than an hour to finish her mission. Once these machines got between the Jewel and all enemies, Jamie Sheridan could not be touched.

  She did not tell Christian and Arthur of the machines’ impending arrival. Rather, she cursed Walter, who betrayed all the observers and must have arranged for Shock Units before he left the Collectorate behind.

  They arrived in Austin Springs precisely at 9 a.m., rendezvousing at the entrance to a town park only a hundred yards from the rear of the police station. Agatha needed one look at the small, white structure to know their final assault would be a striking success.

  Jennifer scouted the station front and back, making note of three entrances – one front, two rear, one side. The lack of law enforcement vehicles suggested they would not face heavy resistance. They clustered about the Camaro hiding their weapons. A few locals walking their dogs paid them scant notice.

  “The Jewel is nearing the end of its re-sequencing,” Agatha said. “Once we secure the building, we should split into teams and acquire incendiary devices.”

  Both legs ached. She knew every step from now to her death would be agony, but Agatha steeled her eyes, refusing to show weakness. She pushed the Shock Units out of her mind.

  “You sacrificed your lives and your homes for fifteen years,” she said. “Now we must be honest. Whether or not we succeed, our last realistic chance of going home may have passed. However, millions will herald us as heroes, even though they may not know our names. I will ponder that concept with my final breath.”

  Their shoulders stiffened, their eyes brightened, and they nodded with determination. A black SUV pulled into the park and stopped in the lot several slips away.

  “Let’s finish this,” Christian said, his eyes drifting to the SUV.

  As they gathered their weapons and Arthur went over the assignments once more, Christian turned away
from the group, his pistol with suppressor behind his back. He moved toward the SUV with the swagger of the most popular stud in school. A man in his early twenties, sporting a t-shirt, shorts and red headband, hopped out of the vehicle, a basketball in one hand and keys in the other.

  Christian smiled. “Sweet ride. How much this set you back?”

  The man with the basketball retreated a step, stumbling over his words. With a half-smile, he said, “Enough. Why?”

  “No reason, man.”

  Christian glanced over his shoulder to his mother and winked. Then he revealed his weapon and said, “Let’s finish this.”

  51

  8:47 a.m.

  Austin Springs Police Department

  J AMIE WATCHED WITH disinterest as a deputy closed the tiny conference room’s one door. Two seconds later, he heard jangling keys and a turning lock. He was alone, kept company by a bottle of water and a painting of a mallard – the room’s only decoration. He sat in a wooden chair at the head of a nondescript oak table for six. He wore a white t-shirt with the letters ASPD emblazoned across the chest.

  As he waited in silence for the next shoe to drop, Jamie turned toward the generic portrait of a mallard. He latched onto the bird’s unblinking, searching eye surrounded by a field of green, and Jamie felt a trickle of nostalgia.

  The memory of Ben emerged from a sea muddied by the Jewel, which was reshaping his brain, synapse by synapse. He remembered Ben at 17, his brother’s eyes wide and alert without the drowning influence of alcohol. He saw a boy no older than himself, likewise trapped between the innocence of youth and the overwhelming fear of what burdens life had in store. He felt Ben’s arm wrapped around his 11-year-old shoulder as they sat on the shore at Alamander River. He remembered gentle, teaching words.

  “Some people will tell you what you can’t be,” Ben said. “It’s their job to try to keep you from your dreams. Sometimes, Jamie, they might be the people you trust. They’re the worst. They’ll say they’re protecting you, but that’s not close to the truth. You listen now, Jamie: Every road you take is your own. It doesn’t matter where you came from or whoever says you owe them something. You take that road, and you own it. Hear me?”